The sun hangs over Sunday   and I'm tangled in sheets   it creeps between my eyelids   seems the blinds sprung a leak   pills crushed in wine are a headache sometimes   but not 'til the feeling's worn off   still the sun hangs over Sunday   and I'm not getting up      there's nothing like a beautiful morning   no, there's nothing like a beautiful day   no, there's nothing like a beautiful morning    to make me hate the way I hate myself today      the sun hangs over Sunday   I pull the blankets over my head   and it creeps between the stitches   I melt like wax in my bed   there was someone here last night   before I closed my eyes   she's just a scent on the sheets   still the sun hangs over Sunday   and I'm gettin' the fuck back to sleep      the sun hangs over Sunday   and I'm hungover as well   the sun hangs over Sunday   and I'm hungover as hell